


Gotta Leave a Mark

by TakeninStride



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Dick Jokes, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gratuitous Acts of Vandalism, Post-Episode: 57
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 09:19:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18385523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakeninStride/pseuds/TakeninStride
Summary: Jester likes to make her mark upon the world-- and its people.





	Gotta Leave a Mark

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by Smokeandjollyranchers to write a little widojest fic about graffiti.

It's not love— he remembers that like a knife in the heart, hot and twisting. It's not familial affection, either. He has reclaimed that, as undeserving as he is, through Nott. Camaraderie he finds within Beau, and comfort in its quiet way, with Yasha. Caduceus's calming air keeps his panic at bay, while Fjord's curiosity gives him a sense of responsibility. Molly… well, he tries not to think about Molly too much. Only when he is exhausted, on the verge of quitting, as a reminder that maybe someday his power will be strong enough to keep the people he cares about alive. Jester, though, conjures something deeper, something older, something he _barely even remembers_ because it's been so long since he'd last had a taste for it.

With every hidden tag she leaves; with every conspiratorial glance his way; every silencing wink or mischievous grin; he finds that he starts to feel joy again. 

So when she tugs at his sleeve and pulls him away from the group, points his gaze towards a lonely bell glinting in a tall tower and asks him what he thinks, he can only say, "Oh, definitely." It's the most bold mark she's sought yet. 

There's a light playfulness in her that hushes Caleb's most paranoid imaginations. The weight of the enjoyment he finds in her pranks somehow tips the balance of risk vs reward he is constantly calculating. He may have been freed from the asylum, but it was always his mind that trapped him. He relishes the freedoms that comes at her side. 

They return to the market square later that evening, once the party settled in. She clears the stairwell and moves around the large bell in the center of the tower, getting a sense for its size and curvature. He cautiously follows, peaking over the unguarded edge, down into the quiet markets below. He decides to keep a feather fall spell at the ready. Just in case. They stand in complete darkness against the night sky, but they're by no means invisible. 

"What if someone sees us up here?" 

"Shh, Caleb, it's totally fine. It's like, _super dark._ No one will see us." 

"But if they do?" 

She flashes a grin at him, the bright white of her fangs standing out in the darkness. 

"Listen man, that door was unlocked. I'm sure people come up here to make out _all_ the time." 

"Making out, then." He hopes she can't see the way his face warms at that. "A likely cover story... until they see all of the paint." He sets the barrel he'd been carrying down by her feet for emphasis. "Have you decided what, yet?" 

She considers the bell once more. "A dick, obviously." 

He huffs, "I should have seen that coming." 

"Ha! It _should_ be cumming! I don't think the fancy people would appreciate that at all." 

"I don't think the fancy people would appreciate any of your vandalism." 

"Caaaayleb, it's not _van-da-lism_ it's _fine art_ , okay?" 

"Fine art," he plays along, "tell me then, what does your painting mean, Lady Lavorre?" 

She pulls a brush from her backpack and gets to work, bullshitting through an explanation as she paints the outlines. "Weeeell, it is all about life, dear Mr. Caleb. Fertility art is all about like, vaginas and stuff right now, so I'm like _to-tally_ subverting the symbolism, y'know." 

"Right... Subverting the symbolism all over the bell for the goddess of death?" 

She stops painting, "Oh shit, this is the Raven Queen's church?" 

He chuckles, "Got you. It's just a town hall." 

She dots the brush against his cheek in her amusement. "Well, even if it was her church, her and the Traveler are _tight_ okay." 

He leans on one of the tower's support pillars. "Are they?" 

"Ooooh yeah. A few days after the incident with Cad _u_ ceus and the infernal guys, he came to visit me and—" her voice drops low, an eyebrow arching up beyond her bangs, her smirk curling cutely into her cheek, "—he told me he used that diamond to buy her reaper out." 

"No shit?" 

"No shit! He told me they need the diamonds for like, weapons or something. How pretty would that be— a sword of diamonds?? It would be so sparkly! For a goth, she's got the right idea! Aaaand, there." 

He leans his head to get a better angle on the bell to see a relatively detailed phallus has been painted in dark green against the sleepy bronze, straight lines move away from the head. "A true masterpiece." 

She fakes a curtsy as she dunks the brush into the small barrel of paint. "I hope he likes it." 

"You know he will," Caleb reassures. 

Jester startles him when she presses herself against his side, manipulating his arm around her shoulders. "Uh… hi," is the only thing he can offer but she doesn't seem bothered by the silence he fails to fill. He lets himself regard her for a moment, but she's looking out. He follows her gaze. 

It's shaping up to be a cold night out, but the sky is clear. A small patch of magenta light peaks over the horizon, but the night is close to chasing it to the west. The town sprawls out below them along the slope it was founded on. Homes are lit up as families prepare for dinner, businesses are dark, music spills out from a nearby tavern somewhere behind them, and few people mill about in the street below. It's a peaceful moment that Caleb finds himself lost in, only discomforted by the brisk breeze that whips through the open walls of the cote. 

"Thank you," she finally says. An addendum, "for everything." 

"Everything?" 

She lets the wind whistle between them before he sees violets again, " _Ja_ , _everything_. From the moment we stepped into the tunnel at Felderwin, to the moment you gave the Bright Queen the beacon… I was scared, everything was so _serious_ … But we're alive, we're _heroes now,_ Caleb. Because of the decision you made. So, y'know… thanks. For making the right decision." 

"I didn't want to die there." He admits, then, "I didn't want any of us to die there." 

"We get to keep traveling until our legs want to give out, we get to keep seeing pretty nights like this in cold little corners of the world. We get to _vandalize_ fancy bells! We get to see our— I get to see my mama again." 

He feels her shake, hears her sniff. It's not like they'd had any time to have a full on feelings jam in the middle of Xhorhas. He'd talked to Beau, he had even talked to Fjord but.. but he should have noticed, after everything, he should have known she wasn't holding up as well as she was letting on. He squeezes her shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting gesture, and opens his mouth, willing something helpful to come out, but she beats him to it. 

"I left my cloak at the tavern," she diverts, shifting further into the awkward hold. 

"You should have said so sooner." He's reluctant to pull away from her for a million reasons, really, but he shrugs out of his coat and holds it out for her. She seems surprised, and only takes it from him after he assures her that he's used to the cold. 

"You won't need this either, then?" she asks, tugging at the end of his scarf. Her playful smirk has covered up whatever that was before. He swallows a cough down. It's bad enough his ears have caught on fire at her flirtation, but he can blame that on the winds if he needs to. She likes to tease him like this now again, and he doesn't— he can't… it's different from the light, the joy she brings him. He can't have _that_ , something so sharp and careful. He thinks he will call her bluff this time; make up some lost ground. He can't let her know how easily she can get under his skin. 

"You can have it if you want," he says in the most unaffected tone he can muster. She considers him for a moment, and slowly pulls the scarf away from his shoulders and the long exhale that goes with it clouds in the air between them and he realizes he should have folded. 

She looks very pleased with herself when she's done coiling the tattered fabric around her neck. She fingers the glittering stone on his exposed amulet and he worries she will feel the hammering of his heart despite the metal and bone between. "Cayleb." 

" _...ja?_ " 

"You're not a very good liar. Not anymore." 

He frowns, "I haven't lied to you?" 

"Not to _me_ ," she says, but trails her pink nails along the edge of his exposed forearm. The goosebumps there have nothing to do with the cold now. "To _yourself_." 

Caleb is a fearful man, but the look in her eyes chills him in a way infernal beasts, or Kryn Queen's with armies never could. What he sees there is embers, calm but bright. He thinks he sees a reflection of what he has been denying himself. All he can do is shake his head and hope she understands. 

"That isn't fair," she whispers. 

"I… I don't deserve—" 

"You deserve. You do. After everything, you do, Caleb." 

He tries to look away, "— _Schiesse,_ Jester, after everything I will _never_ —" but her hand has pulled his jaw back to her. 

"Stop it. You have given life back to a nation. You want to save as many lives as you can, and we are working— right now— to take down the bad guys. You know who fights the bad guys, Caleb? The good guys. _You_ are a good guy." 

He grasps her arms, holding her out, holding her away. "It's not that simple." 

"No," she sighs, not dropping her gaze. "It never is. You want to kill him, that guy. _Dickithon,_ or whatever. You've done bad things, you've hurt people who maybe didn't deserve to be hurt—" 

"I killed them, Jester." 

"—But that isn't you, anymore. You do good things now. You got me pastries, and you helped Nott learn magic, and you've been working so hard to learn that cool spell that will let us _boof_ back home." 

He shakes his head again. "I had selfish reasons for that. For many things..." 

"Yeah, yeah, you have _every_ bad intention," she almost mocks, "save it, _Wido-gast._ Fjord wanted his creepy god to give him more magic, Nott wanted her husband back. Caduceus wants to — I don't quite get what he wants to do but it's weird and like, just for him. Being selfish is _okay_ sometimes, I think. And if _your_ selfish request is to kill some jerks and maybe also end a war that's in everyone's best interests, right?" 

"...I guess. If you're going to put it like that," he concedes, none too happy about it. 

"Well, I'm putting it like that," she smiles, "so guess." 

With a sigh he starts again, "Listen. I do want to completely dismantle the Cerberus Assembly. They are the ones who got the empire into this war. It's personal for me, _ja_ , but I can recognize that it's for… for the greater good. You, and Beau, and Nott, and… well, everyone. You have all beat it into my skull that I'm not the monster I was before and I think, maybe, I'm even starting to believe it." 

Warmth returns to her expression, and she grabs his arms back. 

"But there's more to it than just that," he continues, "I want… something that may be impossible. Maybe." 

"Maybe?" 

"I used to want it more than anything, but the more time I spend, the more… well. It feels farther away, now. Even if I find itis a possibility, I do not know that I would pursue it anymore." 

She considers him for a moment, thinks. "Beau _did_ mention you were like, obsessed with that dunamancy stuff. Is that it?" 

He scrubs a hand down his face, "...ja." 

"You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want," she offers, and he thinks easily that maybe he _does_ love her after all, "Let's just take one step at a time. Things are changing like, every day now." 

"That… sounds good, I think." He's not sure how that conversation will go, if he ever decides to have it, and he's so relieved that she has put it aside. While his guard his down, and his grip is slack, she steps forward, too close, and he retreats right back into the pillar. 

"You want something else, too though." 

He swallows. "I'm selfish." 

"Well, so am I." 

"Jester…" 

"You know, it's funny Cayleb," her voice drops low, like she's telling him a secret. "I grew up watching my mom do her thing, and now I'm like this badass adventurer now, and I'm reading all of these really cool books and stuff, and I totally thought that romance was supposed to be like this really crazy thing with all of these _super ob-vi-ous_ signals. Y'know how like, there's all these smoldering looks and charged touches and well, sex? But it turns out, that's just people being horny all of the time, apparently." 

"Yes, smut tends to be pretty horny." 

"I guess what I mean is that I've never seen what people in love actually _looks_ like until we got Yeza back. How sweet he is with Nott, how they look after each other, and like nerd out with each other about salt and sugar manicures or whatever. So I talked to Nott about it a little bit and asked her what love is really like and you know what I realized?" 

She's so close, he can smell mint and honey. He clears his throat, "What's that?" 

"She was going on about all of these things that Yeza has done for her and I thought ' _Wait that sounds kind of familiar! That sounds like Caleb!'_ Things like, spending time together doing silly stuff, having each other's backs in dangerous situations. Trying to make someone happy when they are upset? That's textbook 'giving someone your money when they are sad about having no money', or 'killing your magic cat for a while to free a creature.' And I just kind of sat there like, _what the fuck_ , y'know?" 

He rests his forehead against hers; it's a lot all at once, and he finds he needs the support. She allows it. "Your happiness brings me joy, _liebling._ That's all I can do, is try. _"_

"So I thought about it, that maybe you have loved me all of this time, and I remembered the warm, happy feelings I get when you do nice things for me. How I really want to make you turn strawberry red all of the time because it's like, really cute? I realized all of those nice feelings, _that's_ what love is. I just didn't know." 

He's not sure who moves first but her lips are warm and soft. This isn't bruising, it's not desperate, it's nothing like Astrid was. It's slow and new and that bright fire she carries in her blooms in his chest. A part of him is terrified, but it's the part of him that is always on edge, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. The rest of him is lost in the feeling of her. Warm breath ghosts across his cheek as she breathes, the tickle of her bangs against his eyebrow, the delicious pressure of being between her body and rough stone. 

They stay like that for a while, hands roaming slowly and sweetly, and Caleb wouldn't be surprised if he opened his eyes to see dawn cresting— he's thoroughly lost track of time, here with her. 

She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, scatters some pecks into the scruff on his jaw, and runs a line of them down his neck until she no longer has to stand on her tippy-toes to kiss him. He grips her by the waist to anchor himself as she sucks at the skin there, smiling as he fails to contain little gasps. 

She only pulls away once there's a sizeable blemish where his neck joins his shoulders. She reminds herself, "One step at a time, right?" He's breathless, and can only manage a single Zemnian swear in response. 

"You might be needing this back now," Jester says, offering his scarf back, and they share a shy chuckle. "I'm keeping your coat until we get back to the tavern." 

"Of course," Caleb smiles, letting her wrap him back up in a way that hides her latest tribute to the Traveler. 

She winks as she pulls away from him, collecting her paint, and starting down the tower steps when he hears, "You might have to take it from me, though~." 


End file.
